Gemma leads us outside, and as we make our way down the hill to the boathouse, Greg hangs back in a way that feels like an invitation. I turn around, and we finally look at each other with frankness.
“Wild coincidence, right?” he says.
“Isit a coincidence?”
“Well, you know what they say.” He shrugs. “There are no coincidences.”
He finishes the latte he is drinking, crumples up the to-go cup, and launches it toward the tree line in a dramatic arc. The Seaveys were never considered stewards of the land, but this is egregious. My disapproval is visible, because Greg says defensively, “What? It’s compost.”
“Compost isn’t just throwing things in the woods,” I say.
“Sometimes it is.” Greg has always done what he wants and found creative ways to justify it.
“Okay. Well, I hope you like bears,” I say, before refocusing. “But seriously, how did this happen?”
Greg squints as if he is trying to remember the chain of events. “I met Gemma by chance through Anthony, maybe a year ago. And right around the time he decided to put money into Actualize, Gemma wrote that article about meeting with ‘the oracle at Catwood Pond.’ It has a nice ring to it.” He gives me a wink. “I had to hear more, so I met with her, and she said she wanted to create a space for retreats. I didn’t mention that I knew you, because why muddy the waters? Butit doesn’t change the fact that I think this property is perfect for what she has in mind.”
“And you saw an opportunity to finally sell the place…” I say, beginning to understand what Greg might be after.
“From what I can tell, there are only upsides here. We’re looking to sell, Gemma is an eager buyer with a shit-ton of funding, and you and your dad could cash in if you can monetize this oracle thing. Not to mention the economic lift it would give Locust. It’s a win-win-win. Those don’t come along often.”
“Isn’t this a giant conflict of interest?” I ask.
“It’s more like a confluence of interests.” When I don’t respond right away, Greg takes a long breath and says, “Listen, Cricket…”
Here it comes, I think. The apology I could have used a decade ago.
“I know the past is heavy. And I know we drifted apart.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“But at the end of the day, we’re old friends. Let’s bury the hatchet and make some money together.”
Gemma, Anthony, and my father have exited the boathouse and begun walking down the path that leads to the guest cabins. I start to follow them.
“I have to hand it to you. It’s really smart,” Greg says, stopping me in my tracks.
“What is?”
“Capitalizing on the fact that your dad is losing it.”
Ah, here’s the Greg I remember. I feel myself ice over as I quip, “Oh yeah, it’s a total win-win.”
“Easy, tiger. I meant that in a good way,” he insists.
“I know you did. That’s the problem.” I can’t believe I thought for a moment that he might have changed. “Listen, this whole thing is ridiculous. I just came to hear Gemma out.”
“Fine.” Greg holds up his hands, as if he has no real stake in the matter. “I’m just saying, it would be fun to work with you on this. Put the past behind us.”
The other three have disappeared down the path, but before I follow them, there’s something I have to ask while I have the chance.
“Did you mean what you said that night?”
“What night?”
“On Sully’s dock. The last time I saw you. You said I killed your cousin. You said Seth would still be here if it weren’t for my drama.”
“I said that?” Greg looks skeptical. “I wouldn’t have said that.”
